hello, self: Pandemic Diary, Day 365

Tuesday, March 16

Pandemic Diary, Day 365

Whoa, y'all. One year.

I remember in the week leading up to March 16, continuously refreshing a Johns Hopkins webpage with a map that had little red dots bursting when new cases popped up. And I remember feeling so bad for the people on the cruise ships that weren't being let off -- remember that? It was contained on cruise ships at first. I remember stocking up our pantry for the first time, not knowing if we would be able to go to the grocery store for 2 weeks (we were able to) -- I bought some EasyMac, ingredients for making chili, some canned fruit, extra soups, and, sort-of inexplicably, some packaged dry pizza dough mix. I remember sewing my first cloth mask, by hand, and tying it around my head with leftover pink shoelaces I had in my craft bin. I felt SO WEIRD that first time at the store wearing it.

Then I remember the kids being extra diligent in those first weeks last spring, both in their rooms, figuring out Google Meet. They handled virtual school so well. I can't believe we did nearly that entire semester from home. (I know others have done so much MORE online school, with challenges; we really have been blessed that they could go back this year. For posterity, Kate went back in-person, masked and distanced in a very different classroom, in August, Alex not until November, with about 65% of his school opting for in-person.)

I remember being temporarily furloughed, twice. How hard it was for my manager to tell me, and how I wasn't truly worried, because they said from the first breath that no one would lose our jobs, but that I still felt teary and like a big weight had just landed in the pit of my stomach, after that Skype call. I also still have a letter in my glove compartment -- one they sent out in the early weeks, in case I was ever stopped during lockdown while on my way to the office, which, because we deal with medical devices, was considered essential. We didn't know how strict "lockdown" was going to be. Of course, I never had to use that letter, but how strange to have even had it.

It seems appropriate that as I sit here typing all this, I hear a siren in the background -- an ambulance or police car on its way to do its normal work, but that "emergency" sound giving a perfect feel to all these memories.

I want to say I'm grateful for the year at home. I really am. I think I've tried to remain grateful through all of it. But I can recall at least 2 times when I felt sad enough that I cried about it in the middle of the day. What will this world come to, and what does it mean for the kids' futures... those kinds of worries. Questions that are still unanswered. However, I don't feel overly sad today. Just resigned. Weary of it. Ready to get back to what we know as normal -- with a huge caveat of NEVER going back to the level of busy that we collectively maintained, and never back to a full-time-required-in-the-office job. Ready to sign up for our vaccine slots, once they're available to us. Ready to visit my family normally, without worry. (Worried about the Spring Breakers, in the near-term. Don't screw it up for all of us, 20-somethings.)

I do want to mark the anniversary in some way.